


HOWEVER MANY DAYS I WANT PRIDE CHALLENGE!!!

by Monsieur_Grenouille



Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Asexual Character, Bisexual Brendon Urie, Bisexual Pete Wentz, M/M, Trans Patrick Stump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:34:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24458278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monsieur_Grenouille/pseuds/Monsieur_Grenouille
Summary: We all know that Pride has been cancelled due to...recent events... so I’m trying to make up for it by writing LGBTQIAP+ centric fic whenever I want to until I don’t feel like it anymore.
Relationships: Brendon Urie/Dallon Weekes, Brendon Urie/Pete Wentz, Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz, Ryan Ross/Brendon Urie
Comments: 6
Kudos: 11





	1. Asexual - Ryden

**Author's Note:**

> Don’t scream at me for starting this one day too soon. I’M JUST SO EXCITED FOR PRIDE MONTH AHHHHH 🌈

”Hey, Ryan!” Pete walks up to me and forces a magazine into my hands. “Isn’t she sexy?” On his magazine, I see a half dressed girl with tan skin and large breasts. Her hair is blonde, and the only thing covering her crotch is a small American flag. I’m startled, and I see that she has nice sneakers, but I don’t get it. 

“What am... What am I looking at? The sneakers? You can probably find those at the mall.” I hand Pete his magazine and stare at him. My face isn’t excited like his, and I don’t see the same sparkles. Maybe he wasn’t looking at the sneakers. Maybe he liked her bracelets? She had a few of those on her wrists. 

Pete gives me a confused chuckle and forces the picture back into my eyes. “It’s a naked girl, Ryan! Why aren’t you turned on by it?” 

I avert my eyes from the photo. “Why do you have a porn magazine? You could’ve bought something else.” My confusion turns to slight anger. “Pete, you know you’re irresponsible, right? What if your parents find that? You’re not an adult yet! You shouldn’t be looking at that!” 

Pete doesn’t take a hint. He keeps showing me that stupid photo from that stupid magazine made by a stupid company. “You’re not my dad, Ryan. Just admit she’s sexy. Admit that you want her.” 

I blush deeply. I don’t want her. I don’t see what I’m supposed to be attracted to. I mean, I’m sure this model is a nice person in real life, but maybe she could have chosen a different job or worn more clothes. “You’re making me really uncomfortable, Pete Wentz. Just leave me alone,” I whimper. I feel like I’m being harassed, but I mostly feel broken or different. I thought that Pete was weird for liking and thinking about sex, but maybe I’m the weird one. Why else would there be an entire career geared towards people like Pete? 

Pete scoffs and ruffles my hair. “You’re gay, Ryan Ross. You’re fucking gay.” He laughs and shoves me to the ground before running off to his other perverted friends. 

That night, I lay in my bed and think about what happened today. I remember the girl’s appearance (Pete burned her image into my mind). What’s so hot about her? What _is_ hot, anyway? I’ve called things _pretty_ , like flowers and music and my sister, but that’s because pretty is an adjective to describe beauty. 

Hot is a temperature. 

My sister’s pretty because she has soft brown hair, clear skin, a calm voice, and a really nice personality. When you’re around her, you feel like a better person. That’s why I call her pretty. Music is pretty because of how it affects everyone differently, and each person has a genre they connect with. People can shape music to sound however they want it to. To each and every person, music is pretty. Flowers are pretty because— I don’t even need to explain that one. Everyone knows that flowers are pretty. 

No edited picture can ever amount to a vibrant personality, and no sexual encounter can ever replace someone saying, “I love you.” 

* * *

At age nineteen, I still don’t feel the things everyone else feels. I don’t want to have sex. Not with girls, and not with boys. I did get a few crushes and I had a girlfriend when I was 17, but she dumped me after she got naked in front of me, causing me to instinctively leave her house and drive home without texting or calling. I still have friends like Patrick and Mikey, but they still get confused when I show no energy or excitement towards porn or whatever. I laugh at dirty jokes and I make dirty jokes (because they’re funny), and I still have fun being part of society. 

At night, when the lights are out and the only thing I hear is my neighbor’s party, I feel broken. Why does everyone else get to enjoy this whole other concept of sexual attraction? Am I just not seeing something? I try to imagine myself on top of someone, ready to go ~inside of them,~ but I just end up stopping due to disinterest. 

I have a different fantasy. I always imagine lying in my bed with a man, both of us in fuzzy pajamas. My arms would be wrapped around his torso to pull him against my chest, and our legs would be intertwined. I’d bury my face in his neck and soak up his warmth. He and I would fall asleep like this every night.

Maybe one day, something in my head will click. I might get the strange desire to have sex or something like that. Probably with a guy, since I think Pete scarred me when we were thirteen. Maybe one day, I’ll be normal. But for now I think I’ll just be alone. 

* * *

Then, of course, I meet Brendon. I get a job at a music store where I get paid minimum wage for maximum effort, but it has one perk. I get to work alongside a perky, sassy, energetic man named Brendon Urie. He flirts with basically every customer, but in a cute way. Watching him try to make sales is like seeing an eleven year old tape a romantic poem on his crush’s locker. It’s even cuter when he talks to me. 

In the break room, I’m just sitting there and eating my sandwich, when all the sudden he just comes up and tugs at my scarf from behind. “Ryan!” he whispers loudly, “Where did this scarf come from? It’s really cute.” 

I don’t know what to say. Should I tell him that I’m poor? “It was, um... it was a gift,” I say. It was a donation. 

Brendon sighs and sits down next to me. He props his chin on his knuckles and just stares at me while I eat my sandwich. Doesn’t he have a lunch to eat, too? It gets really awkward, especially when he reaches up and touches my hair. “You have really nice hair, sweetie. Maybe if you wore a little more red, it could really make your style show.” 

I just laugh awkwardly and continue eating. I pray that he’s not trying to seduce me because I’m still broken, but I’ll just wait and see how far he goes. Maybe that means I have to talk. “What kind of red?” I ask. 

Brendon takes off my hat to touch my hair some more and eventually says, “Maroon. You should wear maroon.” 

I stop dead in my tracks. “Maroon? Are you kidding me? That’s like the death of red.” 

Brendon smiles. “You’re the death of me.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I set my sandwich down and look straight into his eyes. Instantly he pulls his hand away like a deer in headlights. His eyes are wide and scared, too. 

“I... uh... I just think you’re pretty, is all. You have a nice face and hair and style, and you’re really calming. You have good energy and I like you. That’s why you’re pretty. If you don’t feel comfortable with that, I can leave. I can leave if you want me to. I’m sorry, Ryan, please don’t hate me.” he hides his face, voice cracking. 

He called me pretty. He thinks I’m pretty. He doesn’t think I’m hot or sexy; he thinks I’m pretty! I smile and try to hide my blushing face from him. “Well, um...” I chuckle again and pull my hat back over my eyes. “Thank you. You’re pretty, too.” 

Brendon gives me that same lopsided smile and puts his hand on my knee. “Do you like me? Like... _like like_ me?” he asks. As if he couldn’t get any more adorable, he just goes out and says something like that. But he’s still touching my leg without warning or permission. 

I look down at his hand nervously. It almost makes me anxious to feel his hand one foot away from my dick. “Please don’t...” I whisper, sliding his hand off of me. “I like you and all, but just... there.” His touch is gone and now we’re just staring at each other from separate chairs. 

He looks confused. “D-Do you like me, though?” 

I nod my head hesitantly. I feel like I should explain myself a bit more, or at least say something else. “So, um, here’s the deal,” I say, “Brendon, I like you. You’re a really good guy and I have an attraction to you. I just... um... you don’t want to date me, Brendon. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything. I’m sorta broken, so I’ll just leave you right here, sorry.” I awkwardly pack up my lunch and leave as soon possible, feeling terrible. He shouldn’t need to fall in love with me. He shouldn’t need to suffer that way. 

Brendon follows after me and grabs me by the scarf before I open the door. “Ryan, stop! You’re not broken. We still have five more minutes of break, so we can talk this out. Just come back to the chairs and talk.” He tugs at my arm desperately. “Baby, please!” 

There’s something about the way he calls me baby. It breaks my heart. I turn around and look him in the eyes, panting softly with distress. Brendon has the same expression, but softer and more confused. We’re both just really confused, aren’t we? I willingly follow him back to the chairs. He puts my hand in his after asking permission, admiring my slim fingers and pale skin. 

“So, what’s the deal here? Are you scared of dating a man, or are you afraid I’m going to hurt you? Just tell me.” 

I feel a deep blush rise in my cheeks. At this point, there’s nothing left but honesty. After a deep breath, I deadpan, “I don’t want to have sex.” My face holds the same blank expression. “You’re the first to know this, so don’t tell anyone.” I lower my voice to say, “If you tell anyone, I swear to god that your body will _not_ be found. You hear me? I _will_ kill you, and I _will_ get away with it.” It’s the first time in a while where I’ve been extremely serious with someone like this, but I like to know if I’m getting my point across. 

Brendon looks too scared to talk, so I squeeze his hand and give him a comforting look. He releases a little tension, but I still scared him pretty bad. “Well, um...” he chuckles nervously and avoids direct eye contact with me. “You do know that it’s not a big deal, right? There’s a word for people who don’t feel sexual attraction.” 

I soften my grip on his hand and stare at him. “What is it?” I whisper. 

He doesn’t skip a beat. “Asexual,” he says, “and it’s more common than you think. You’re not broken or anything. You just don’t want to do anything more than kissing or cuddling or dating, right?” He looks up into my eyes with a gentle expression. He accepts me. I smile a bit as everything seems to fall into place. I’m not broken after all. I’m just asexual. 

“Y-Yeah,” I say, “Nothing beyond that. Is there a word for you? You seem to like everyone. You flirt with every single customer even though we work in a music store. Do you actually find them attractive or is that a sales thing?” 

Brendon shrugs. “Technically I’m pansexual, so I find all genders attractive, but with the customers it’s a sales thing. Definitely a sales thing.” He clears his throat and smiles at me, “But _you’re_ not a sales thing, Ryan.” 

I chuckle, “Good.” I allow a comfortable silence to pass again, noticing that break ends in thirty seconds. “So are you and I dating now?” I ask quickly. 

Brendon hesitates, “Only If you want to.” 

“I want to.” 

“Same,” he nods firmly, as if we just agreed on where to eat for lunch. It’s kind of funny, but it still gives me the urge to kiss him. I lean forward and connect our lips, putting my hand on the side of his face. I feel so weird because I actually love him this time, and it’s deeper now that he knows I only want romance. How is he okay with that, though? If we get married, he’ll never have sex again. 

But who’s saying anything about marriage? I’ve just had a crush on him for a really long time and according to my daydreams, he proposed last week. Maybe his feelings for me are new. Wait, am I still kissing him? I open my eyes to see that we haven’t moved, which makes me back away and straighten my work hat. “Okay!” I chuckle awkwardly, “That was nice, but we’re behind schedule now. We just wasted ten seconds. C’mon, b-babe. God, saying that feels so weird, doesn’t it?” I push in my chair and walk out the door, immediately heading for my post. The store is empty, as it is always. 

Brendon follows after me and wraps his arms around me from behind. “I’m the manager, Ryan. I can forgive you for being on break ten seconds more than normal. Just as long as you weren’t using that time for sexual activity.” 

I laugh, almost too loudly. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” 


	2. Transgender FTM - Peterick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the headcanon of Trans Patrick’s deadname being Olivia, since his mom is already named Patricia and Olivia sounds like such a deadname to me. The first part with the kindergarten is literally based on what I used to say to adults. I was like, “I wanna be a boy! I want a mustache and a boy name!” Still haven’t grown out of it. WHERE’S MY F–CKING MUSTACHE?!

“What do you want to be when you grow up, Olivia?” the kindergarten teacher kneels in front of me on career day, seeing that I’m wearing a Cubs jersey and jeans. They’re my brother’s clothes, but I like them. When I don’t answer right away, she tries again. “Do you want to play softball?” 

I smile widely at her and announce, “No, I want to be a boy when I grow up!” Apparently I wasn’t supposed to say that. Everyone in the conversation goes quiet, and my parents exchange the same worried look. 

My mom chuckles awkwardly, “This is how she always is. I’m sorry.” 

My dad adds, “She doesn’t have a sister, so she follows her brothers. It’s just a phase, though.” 

I feel nervous again. Why don’t they know I’m a boy? “Mom, I’m not a girl,” I say firmly, “I’m a boy. I’m like those people over there!” I point over to the corner of the room, where a group of boys are standing. Some are baseball players, some are doctors, and one’s a soccer player. 

My dad tries to distract me from the conversation. “Isn’t that boy cute?” he teases, pointing to the soccer boy. I shake my head, even though he’s kind of cute. 

“Can I go talk to them, Dad?” I ask. 

My mom gives my dad another look, and then I hear whispers. “Maybe she should talk to those girls over there. It might help her.” 

“Patricia, you know that she won’t fit in with them. She’ll talk about how irrational the idea of becoming an American princess is. She’ll ruin their dreams.” 

“But David, if we don’t get her in the right spot now, she’s going to be transgender.” 

“We don’t know that yet. Just let her be herself,” my dad argues, then turns back to me. “Go ahead, Liv. Make sure you’re nice and if they make you uncomfortable, there’s always the girls on the other side of the room. Your mom and I will be back at the end of the day.” 

I nod my head excitedly and give them both hugs before going to the other side of the room. I’m shy, so I wait for them to stop talking so I can introduce myself. “I’m Olivia,” I say. 

The soccer boy acknowledges me first. He waves at me and says, “I’m Pete. Why do you have a girl name?”

The curly haired boy dressed as a doctor laughs and shoves Pete. “She’s a girl, idiot.” 

A redhead dressed as a veterinarian spoke next. “Some boys have long hair, Joe. I have long hair. Gerard has long hair.” 

The other boys nod, then Pete turns to me again. “So are you a girl or a boy?” 

I say the first thing that comes to mind. “I’m a girl that wants to be a boy.” I regret saying it immediately, but it doesn’t seem to affect the others. Pete’s a little confused and Joe is beyond confused, but the redhead and this other guy dressed as an artist don’t seem to mind. 

Joe starts to talk, but Pete slaps his hand over his mouth and talks instead. “So do you want us to call you a girl or a boy?” 

I feel conflicted. I’m going to get in trouble for this, but these people look like friends. “I-I want to be a boy.” 

The artist smiles and then hugs me for some reason. “Good,” he says, “There’s no girls allowed anyway.” 

The veterinarian gasps, “That’s sexist, Gerard.” 

Me, Gerard, and the others stare at him with horror. “Andy said a bad word,” Joe announces quietly. It makes everyone else laugh for some reason, but I stay quiet. There was something about Gerard calling me a boy that I really liked. I felt like I belonged, or that I was supposed to be here. It just made me feel nice. Maybe I should keep that a secret, though. My parents would be mad.

* * *

I’m still friends with Gerard, Andy, Pete, and Joe when kindergarten ends. Actually, past that. We’re in middle school now. I guess I looked like a boy for all of elementary school, and there was nothing wrong with my body shape or voice. I just dressed like a boy and acted like a boy. 

But then came puberty. Puberty’s a bitch, you know? I have wider hips, stupid tits, and a period once a month. Guys are always trying to hit on me since I “turned out hot,” and the only place I feel comfortable is with Pete or Gerard. Andy and Joe get awkward since they both have crushes on me. 

“Stumph, you’re not any less of a guy,” Pete assures me. We’re sitting in his basement, talking about the recent events of puberty. “You don’t have to listen to people.” He’s gotten taller and started acting darker, wearing eyeliner and clipping his hair into edgy bangs. I tease him about it, but it’s still a good look for him. I’m attracted to him, making me both gay and transgender. 

I nuzzle against his chest. “I wish I was flat, like you.” 

Pete shakes his head. “You’re handsome as you are, Stumph. You don’t need to change yourself or prove anything to me.” 

I sigh and shift in his lap a little so that our chests are pressed together. He says it makes him more comfortable when I’m this close to him, and I agree. I swear I need him to survive. “I love you so much,” I whisper. 

He smiles and hugs me tightly. “I love you too. You break my heart sometimes, you know?” He puts his hand on the side of my face and looks me in the eye. “You’re hard on yourself, and your feminine frame doesn’t help you feel better at all, but I still remember when I saw you in kindergarten. You were so masculine and boyish... I thought you were male. I still see that whenever I look at you. You’re really coming along.” 

I blush lightly. “You know you don’t have to say things like that, right? It’s okay to say that I don’t even begin to pass, or that you’d prefer me as a girl because, well, I think we all know why,” I laugh.

Pete laughs too. He shakes his head and holds onto my hand. “Not at all. I think you’re on your way to passing. Have you come out to your parents yet?” 

I shake my head. “They’d flip. Plus, I don’t even have a name yet. Oliver is close to my birth name, but it’s not a good name. I don’t like it.” 

Pete shrugs, “Yeah, that name sucks. What about David? Your dad’s name is David.” 

“You just gave me the exact reason to _not_ name myself David. My mom’s name is Patricia, so I could be Patrick. I’ve always liked the name, and she once told me that if I was born a boy, then my name would be Patrick.” 

“You _were_ born a boy.” 

I groan. He always brings up how the mind and body are separated. “You know what I mean. If I was born with a dick. Do you really want me to say that every time?” 

“Yes,” Pete replies sagely. “And I like the name Patrick. Do you want me to cut your hair?” 

I smirk, “That depends on whether you cut your own hair.” 

He shakes his head. “No. I don’t cut my own hair.” 

I kiss him on the cheek and awkwardly get off his lap. “Let’s go get some scissors, then.” 

* * *

I come out to my parents in ninth grade. “Mom, dad... I’m transgender. My name is Patrick, and I’m your son. Please don’t be mad.” I sit across from them on the couch. Next thing I know, my mom hands my dad a twenty dollar bill. “Wh-What’s that?” I stammer, “You guys knew?” 

My dad laughs. “I did. Your mom didn’t.” 

“To be fair, I thought you were a lesbian,” my mom offers, as if it helps anything. “You hung out with guys and cut your hair, so I naturally assumed you were a lesbian.” She shrugs. I roll my eyes. 

“So is there acceptance or do I need to undergo a lecture? I’m fine with either, but I just need to know if this is okay with you.” I feel so awkward, since this is not what I expected. They’re just going to be okay with it? No evicting me from the house? 

My dad leans forward and hugs me. “It’s going to take some getting used to, kid, but we’ll try. You want to be called Patrick, right?” 

I nod, shocked. “Y-Yeah. Patrick.” I hug him back and feel tears slip down my face. Soon I’m sobbing, holding onto my father for comfort. “Thank you so much,” I whisper. 

My mother eventually stands up and hands me a tissue, but not with a smile or trace of comfort. I guess she’s not completely on board with it. Sucks to be her, then. “I love you,” my dad murmurs. 

I try to calm down enough, but it makes me cry even harder when I say, “I love you too.” 

That summer, my mom and dad make the agreement to change my name from “Olivia” to “Patrick” in the school system. It was my fourteenth birthday present. Pete (the idiot) finally kisses me when he sees me in my new binder and three months on testosterone. Apparently he wanted to wait until I was comfortable with myself. I’m his boyfriend now. 

As for my other friends... it’s complicated. Joe and Andy are dating, I guess. We don’t know for sure, but it’s hard to see anything else when you walk in on two guys making out. Sober. The sounds they were making are hard to erase from the memory, but we never brought it up. They’ll talk. 

Gerard ended up running away from home with this one guy named Frank and we’ve only heard from him once. He’s doing well. Turns out that he did become an artist and has a balanced salary at the age of fifteen, so most of us have only a fraction of his talent. I read his comic every so often.

I’m starting to feel more comfortable and confident as a man, since the smallest bit of facial hair is starting to occur on my face. Pete likes touching my small mustache. He’s become really affectionate, more than I’d like at times. It’s cute when he wraps his limbs around me like a koala, though. I love him. 

* * *

I stand on the stage in front of the audience, preparing myself to say my confession in between songs. “Hello, fans,” I say into the microphone, “Some of you know that I am not the most masculine creature in the world.” 

Pete notices my error already. “Shut up, Patrick,” he jokes, “You’re fucking beautiful.” The crowd goes wild at that, especially when Pete gives me his adoring smile. 

I roll my eyes. “Anyway, there’s a reason I don’t look like the rest of these fine gentlemen you see on stage.” I gesture to Joe and Andy, who are giving me such proud smiles. I get tears in my eyes. We all know how far I’ve come. “Well, um, I just wanted to tell you guys that I’m transgender. Female to male, that is. I was born _without a dick_ ,” I smirk at Pete. He laughs and lets me continue. “If any of you guys stop listening to Fall Out Boy because of this, I won’t be offended. In fact, please stop listening if you have a problem. The less transphobes we have on the fan base, the better. Don’t ask me questions that you wouldn’t ask Joe, Pete, or Andy. I guess what I’m trying to say is... just be a nice person, no matter who you’re talking to.” 

Pete and I exchange one last look and he nods. I nod back, then turn to the crowd again. “There’s never a wrong way to be yourself, I guess.”


	3. Gay - Brallon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I didn’t get as much time to write today. My iPad is also doing this glitch thing where once I pass a certain amount of words, it makes the screen go up and down with every character I type, so I don’t see everything that gets put on there. Yes, I write fic with an iPad. Sue me.

My name is Sir Dallon Weekes, and I am a knight. I protect Los Village, but one day I may be able to protect Prince Urie. Prince Urie is a handsome man in his twenties who mostly keeps to himself. Sometimes I hear him practicing piano when I’m walking through town, and it sounds more and more beautiful each time. I’d say I’m in love with him, but that would be useless; everyone’s in love with him.

I wouldn’t say it’s typical for a man to love a man in Los Village. It’s heavily frowned upon, actually. The last guy who hugged his best friend was sentenced for the guillotine until his wife came in at the last moment and showed paperwork for their marriage. That’s why I choose to not discuss romance and to stay away from the bars with prostitution. I also lie and say I’m celibate. 

On a scale of Earth to Heaven (Earth being the worst pain one could experience), I’d say I’m in the middle. Either Hell or Purgatory. I’ll be in heaven on the day I see Prince Urie in person. Even if I have to go through every thinkable obstacle just to touch his hand or see his smile. Maybe if he could just nod in my direction, that would be wonderful.

* * *

There were more thinkable obstacles than I thought. 

One day, I’m called down to the castle on official knight business. No one else is called down. “Sir Weekes,” the king says, “We haven’t seen the prince in a few days. We haven’t been able to hear him playing his music or playing with the dogs. Is it possible that he is dead?” 

I don’t dare make eye contact with the King, but at this point I think he deserves it. If you want to know if your son is okay, get your ass off the throne and go check on him. “Is it possible that he is depressed, your highness?” I ask.

The king scoffs. “Are you ill?” 

_Yes._ “No, your highness.” 

“Sir Weekes, may I suggest that you get executed instead of completing this one task? Please go tell us if the prince is dead. His bedroom is in the basement.” 

The royal family is bullshit. “Your highness, is the basement used as a torture chamber?” 

“Yes, sire. We have made accommodations so that our son may live down there, as he wishes. Now go. Check to see if he is dead. If he is dead, so be it. If he is alive... do not do anything.” He waves his hand dismissively and sends me off. I roll my eyes. As my first job for the Prince, this is extremely stupid. 

I head down the hallway, gold framed paintings and tapestries everywhere. I notice a lot of purple. “Rich people,” I scoff.

I hear a quiet male voice from the dark. “I know, right?” he steps forward into the light. He’s deathly skinny and pale, wearing worn tan clothes and broken glasses. A hat rests on his head, and I think it’s his only possession. Dark circles rest under his sunken eyes. “I hate them,” he whispers. “They took away everything.” 

I stop walking for a second. “Why are you here then, if they took everything from you?” 

The boy smiles weakly and says, “I’m taking from them.” 

My eyes go wide. A thief. I have to keep it cool, or get him to confess what he’s stolen. “What have you taken? How much gold have you acquired?” 

He laughs, but it clearly hurts him and leaves him shaky and breathless. “I would never steal material items. If I did, it would be food. No... I steal warmth. A place to sleep. The prince has a heater in his room that he lets me lay on top of, and sometimes I sleep in the walls.” 

I stop dead in my tracks. “I-In the walls?” 

The boy nods. “There’s a hole behind the prince’s tapestry. If I curl up, I can fit in there. It goes straight through, so I can see the stars, and the outside world, and... and the horses,” he starts to get choked up. He sniffles and runs forward to hug me. I gingerly put my arms back around him, but he whimpers, “That hurts.” 

I really want to sit around and make sure this boy’s okay, or at least take him home and give him a proper life, but I was given a job. Maybe I’ll visit this boy later. “What is your name?” I ask. 

He steps back. “P-Pat-Patrick.” 

I attempt to smile, but Patrick’s scrawniness just keeps scaring me. “Tell you what, Patrick. I’ll take you to my home and help you be healthy again, but only if you tell me exactly where the prince is.” 

Patrick’s eyes go wide. He looks terrified all the sudden. “Y-You’re going to turn me in! You’re going to find the king and tell him that I live here! You do not have any plans of caring for me. Begone! Begone from the castle!” He screeches and attempts to punch me, but his cold frail fist lands on my metal armor and he falls to the ground with a yelp of pain. He’s twitching and gasping for help; the impact broke skin. 

Since it’s my stupid duty to protect everyone and anyone, I get on my knees and scoop him into my arms. He’s shaking and whispering threats to me, but I hear him say, “I’m eternally grateful.” 

I smile and adjust my hold on him. “Where’s the prince? Is he in his bedroom or outside?” 

Patrick coughs, “This information is protected by a curse! And I can ensure that the curse isn’t real because it happened to me!” 

I cock my head. “What’s the curse?” 

Patrick leans up to whisper, “If you find out, no woman will ever fall for you again. You will never have a wife, Sire.” 

No wife? No women falling for me? What more could a gay knight ask for? Curse me to hell, bitch! I nod my head. “I am willing to never be loved by a woman. Show me the way to the prince, Patrick.” 

“I can’t walk when you’re holding me like this.” 

“Then just give me directions, for Christ’s sake.” 

Patrick nods, and I begin walking. Three minutes after a straight hallway, I hear his voice again. “Turn left.”

* * *

We arrive at the door of Prince Urie’s bedroom. We hear piano playing, but it’s very soft and quiet. Somber, basically. “He’s not okay right now,” Patrick informs me, “He’s been talking less and less. It’s just him and that quiet piano. Maybe you shouldn’t talk to him right now...” 

I shake my head. “I have to talk to him. It’s my job. Even though the king told me not to talk to him, I’ve always wanted to.” 

Patrick smiles and reaches out weakly to tap on the door a few times. We immediately hear the piano stop, followed by footsteps. Prince Urie opens the door, and I think it would be rude to be honest about this but... 

He looks like shit. Or like he stepped in shit. Or like he was the one who got stepped on. He sees me and begins to close the door, but then sees Patrick in my arms. “Oh,” he sighs, “You found him.” He rubs his eyes and reaches out for Patrick. “He wasn’t supposed to get out today. It’s Wednesday, Patrick. You get let out on Thursdays, remember? You can’t just wander around the castle or someone’s going to find you. You were sentenced five months ago, so the discipline would only get worse.” 

Patrick whimpers and nuzzles against Brendon. Brendon kisses his forehead and coos softly before turning back to me. “He’s turned into more of a creature than a human during his time down here. He was supposed to die months ago because he’s delusional and slightly psychotic, but he’s really a sweetheart once you get to know him.” He chuckles and holds out his hand. “Brendon Urie.” 

I nod and shake his hand. “Dallon Weekes. I am here to see if you’re okay. And, uh, to return Patrick. He cursed me on the way here, but I don’t think it’s too serious.” 

Brendon chuckles, “Let me guess. No woman will ever love you again?” 

I laugh and nod. “Good thing I’m gay!” 

Brendon smiles wider. “Hey, me too. It’s why I’m down here. My father found out, and... you can guess what happened. I’m basically the Patrick of my family.” 

“I’m unstable, not deaf,” Patrick whimpers. Brendon apologizes and strokes Patrick’s hair a bit. 

Brendon looks up at me. “Do you want to come in, Sire?” 

I nod and duck into the room. The only things I see are a bed and a heater, along with the space heater and tapestry that Patrick is in love with. Patrick immediately scampers across the room to said heater, screeching for warmth. We both watch him for a few seconds as he whispers lovingly to the heater. 

Brendon turns to me. “Please don’t let him bother you. I think he’s adorable, honestly. I’m not in love with him, though. He’s like a pet to me. I take care of him and make sure he has enough food and water, then I hold him and let him sleep in the wall since he doesn’t want to invade my space. I’d love to cuddle him, though. He’s so adorable.” He chuckles. 

I blush lightly, “Well, I think you’re adorable. Eighteen years old and already taking care of your own psycho. I know that you get this a lot, but I fancy you. I think you and I would be good partners. If you don’t mind–“ 

Brendon yanks me down by the arm and presses his lips firmly against mine. I feel surprised, but I don’t know why. He seems really quick to kiss me, considering how illegal it is and how I’ve barely been talking to him for ten minutes. Maybe he’s desperate, like me. Being “celibate,” I haven’t had anything in years and this kiss is beyond what I was hoping for. I melt into it, letting my tongue graze across his lips and eventually the inside of his mouth. He sighs and grabs my neck. 

“Sire,” he whispers, “You’re so handsome.” 

I smile and say it back. “I’ll need to visit you through the hole in the wall. Maybe one day we can make the hole big enough for you to escape. I also made a promise to Patrick, so he’ll have to come along.” 

Brendon pulls away and keeps his arms around me. “Oh, Dallon,” he sighs, “You had me at _sexy gay knight standing outside my door and offering to take care of both me and my little psycho boy._ ” 


	4. Bisexual - Petedon

Don't get me wrong, I like girls too. There was just something about Pete standing there and watching all the other couples dance until midnight. I just had to do something. First, I should back up a little. This story is way better when you get the full view. 

Pete invites me to a New Years party, since his girlfriend broke up with him last week and he still had a plus one on his ticket. I've never been to a New Years party, except for the one that Aunt Carol used to throw. You know, the ones where I'd linger downstairs for a few minutes to tolerate the cousins, then sneak back up to my room and fall asleep? 

I've never made it to midnight. But I'm an adult now, so I have to make it. I drank three iced coffees and skipped out on booze, sticking to caffeine the whole night. Pete eyes me suspiciously as I down another diet coke. "You okay?" he asks. 

I nod, jittery and sweaty. "I'm just nervous." 

"Why?" 

I chuckle and rub my neck embarrassedly. "I've never made it to midnight on New Years Eve. I don't want to pass out or leave early, since I'm having the time of my life. You know how it is." 

Pete smiles, and it lights me up inside. The way his eyes sparkle and the way his natural hair color is starting to poke through the blonde... it drives me crazy on a small scale. More like I feel my heart beat faster, but not to the point I need to leave the room. 

"Sounds like you need a distraction, Brendon. Shall we dance?" He extends his hand, and I can't say no. I take it and he leads us to the dance floor, where everyone's comfy and slow dancing. 

I'm taller than Pete, so his hands go around my neck and my hands go on his hips. I feel like we're at an awkward middle school dance, and I can tell he feels the same way. "Why do I have to be the girl?" he jokes, "I have a beard!" 

I chuckle softly and kiss his forehead. He notices, but doesn't address it. Neither of us do. We just keep dancing until around 11:57, when everyone's congregating around the screen for the ball drop. I look to Pete, who gives me a knowing look. We're two bachelors who have literally no one to kiss at midnight, but one of us might be bisexual.

Or both. I don't assume. 

The clock gets closer and closer to midnight until I can feel his anticipation. "I hate being single right now," he murmurs to me. I smile and agree. 

Soon, everyone's yelling. "Ten!" 

I glance at Pete. 

"Nine!" 

I consider how I've always been attracted to him and just men in general. 

"Eight!" 

He's a very attractive man. One who I wouldn't mind kissing.

"Seven!" 

He seemed to like that forehead kiss from earlier. 

"Six!" 

I am his plus one, after all. There's a reason he invited me. 

"Five!" 

I lock eyes with him.

"Four!" 

I smile. He smiles back. 

"Three!" 

I grab him by the necktie. 

"Two!" 

I yank him closer. Our noses touch, and I see him slip his eyes down. He shows no resistance, and clearly wants me to do this. I have to.

"One!" 

I kiss him.

**Author's Note:**

> Pride is about acceptance and being proud of who you are, so never feel like you’re not valid. You are completely and totally valid. It’s Pride Month! Take advantage of it. If you feel unaccepted for who you are, talk to me in the comments. I have a very fatherly presence, and I will adopt you. You will become my wonderful child, and I will be your accepting father.


End file.
